He began to regret being equipped with pain circuits; it was hard not to begin disliking these policemen, who were probably only doing some kind of duty.
They played all the games he remembered from childhood, from the school playground: stand up sit down; no means yes and yes means no; and sorry I hit you oops sorry I hit you again…
‘Look at him,’ said the one called lieutenant. ‘Look at that innocent face, you wouldn’t think a face like that could do anything, would you? I mean does he really look like a guy that would rape a girl, stab her to death, chop up the body and hide the pieces in—’
Cuff was reading the folder on the table for the first time. ‘Uh, lieutenant. This is a different suspect.’
‘All suspects are the same, Cuff, you should know that.’
‘I mean this guy is from the Shopping Piazza beef.’
‘Then why do I tie him in with the Snowman Killer? Why? Why? He’s not the Moxon’s chauffeur?’
‘Nope, he’s clean.’
Lieutenant turned on normal lights. He was a normal-looking man, despite the propeller beanie he wore, no doubt to give himself character. ‘Isn’t that just it, though? He’s clean, he’s
The finger pointed at Roderick. ‘All right,
‘Yes I was.’
The two cops exchanged a look.
‘Did you leave that party with a woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘A woman named Judi Mazzini?’
‘No, Connie McBabbitt.’
The two policemen groaned, withdrew to the other side of the room, and argued. ‘We had such a good case too, lieutenant. Sergeant Placket says he even mentioned an electric carving knife. And he was at the party—’
‘Sergeant Placket is a kind of a sophisticated bowel, if you ask me.’
A fat man was waiting by the counter when Roderick collected his twenty-nine cents.
‘How’s the handkerchief?’
‘Mister, you got some problem? Huh?’
‘Sorry, I thought you were another fat guy, I mean someone else.’ Now he could see the man was a stranger, deeply tanned and wearing a cowboy hat. ‘I was kind of dizzy there, not feeling too well.’
‘Roderick Wood,’ said the counter sergeant. ‘Sign here.’
Somehow Roderick managed to lift the heavy pen and scrawl his name; to drag himself to the elevator and lean on the button. The fat cowboy got on the elevator with him.
‘You better take it easy there, partner. You look plumb sick.’
‘No I… feeling dizzy I
‘Guess I better take you into protective custody then.’ The man handcuffed Roderick’s left wrist to his own right.
‘What? Mm? Eh?’
‘The name’s O’Smith, I’m a kinda bounty hunter. And there sure is a good price on your little old microchip head, son.’
‘Uh?’
‘Yep, I know who you are, I know all about you, how they built you over at the University, how they sneaked you off to live with them Dinkses over in Nevada, then when they split up you went to Nebraska to live with Ma and Pa Wood, then finally you hightailed it up here to the big city, I know all that.’ They left the elevator and O’Smith gave a friendly nod to the desk sergeant on their way out.
It was night-time, to Roderick’s surprise. But he would have been just as surprised by daylight. Time, after all, was, is, has past, would be, will have been passing…
‘I been following your trail for some time, son. Mr Kratt and Mr Frankelin wanted you real bad, you’re gonna make their fortune. After you make mine, that is. Come on, the car’s right across the street here. Careful on the ice, don’t want you to fall down and wreck any of that high-tone hardware. You might not believe it to look at me, but I got a few artificial parts myself, I—hey! What’s that gol-durned fool think he’s doin’? Hey!’
A car with no lights careened around a corner, fishtailed, picked up speed, and drove straight at them. At the last minute, the driver hit the brakes and threw the car into a skid.
Roderick was aware of being thrown into the air and falling in snow. He lay on his back, watching the stars. One by one, they went out.
The four boys from Digamma Upsilon Nu got out of their car and looked at the victims.
‘They look dead to me. Jeez, this guy’s lost his arm!’
‘My old man’ll kill me, drunk driving with no lights — and hit and run.’
‘We haven’t run yet.’
‘No but we’re gonna. Hey look, this stiffs got the other one’s arm. In a handcuff! Cops!’
‘Yeah, hey, there’s the station right there. Aw Jeez, we’re all gonna be in trouble.’
Someone bent with a match over Roderick. ‘This ain’t no stiff, it’s a dummy, look the wig’s coming loose, you can see metal.’
‘And this arm is artificial — the other one must be a dummy too. Or something.’
As if by a prearranged plan; they loaded Roderick, with O’Smith’s right arm, into their car and drove off. In a fraternity famed for practical jokes, there would always be some use for a realistic dummy.
XVI
Father Warren awoke from a brief and terrifying dream in which he’d been playing ping-pong with the Holy Ghost. The Paraclete had taken the form of a pigeon; standing on the table, it pecked the ball back at him. There had been some question about the stakes. Either damnation awaited him if he won, or else if he lost. But the terrifying part was that, in his dream, he knew he was dreaming. He knew that if he succeeded in avoiding damnation, his pleasure would be supreme and lasting into wakefulness — thus damning him anyway.
All nonsense of course. Here he was in the lounge of the Newman Club, having dozed over his own article on Lewis, nothing worse. He set about exorcizing the dream: ping-pong sounds came from the next room, no mystery about that. As for the pigeon, hadn’t someone the other day said something about Skinner and pigeons? Training them to be superstitious? Yes, something about pigeons understanding how faith could be exactly like a mustard seed.
Cheap epigram like that, funny it should stick in his craw mind. He turned his attention to the printed words (his own):
…a fearful symmetry by which the master finds that it is really the slave who is in control of things. The magician who believes he can hold demons in thrall makes the same mistake as the cybernetician who thinks he can order his machine to deliver power or ‘success’ for free. In such a context we find Lewis using a demon name made up of
There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and feel an excessive or unhealthy interest in them.
